The Great Detective
by BronzeTree
Summary: A series of short stories separated in 8-10 parts each. The story of Sidney Lawrence-Holmes, daughter of the Great Detective, and the tales of how she became one herself.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Ok, this is my first fic. English is not my mother language, so there might be mistakes; feel free to correct me.

Episode one: Suicide Angels (Part 1/8)

"Sherlock," John said as he entered the flat, a post card in a hand, supermarket bags in the other. "You've got a letter."

Sherlock was sitting on the couch, violin in hand. "Who's it from?" he asked.

"Err—I think you better read it yourself."

Sherlock extended his hand, and, with a sigh, John walked all the way to the couch and handed it to him. He then walked to the kitchen and put everything he bought away.

When John walked back to the living room, about ten minutes later, Sherlock was standing in front of the window, letter in hand. John noticed he was tense, something rather unusual. He walked over to him, touched his shoulder and said "Sherlock, is everything alright?"

Sherlock didn't turn around. With a shacking voice, he said "No, John. There's—there's a problem. I—"

"Sherlock, calm down. What is it?" John had never seen Sherlock act like this.

"I have a daughter, John."

This took John some time to process. "Wait," he said. "When? I—who's the mother? Sherlock, I didn't even know—"

"When I had to pretend my death, I would wander around. Once I went to a pub, and drank too much. I somehow ended with a woman. I never saw her again, nor heard of her until now. I suppose I told her my name giving my mind state of the moment."

"But you've been back for a year already!"

"The woman—Maureen—got sick." Sherlock continued as if John hadn't talk. "Will be dead soon, wants me to take care of the child."

"_Your_ child. Tell me you'll take care of her, Sherlock."

"Of course. I—well, yes, she—"

"Sherlock! You got yourself into this mess, now take care of it!"

"She's my daughter, of course I will!"

"Can I read the letter?"

Sherlock handed it to him. The letter read:

_Dear Mr. Holmes,_

_it is my duty to inform you that after our encounter, I gave birth to a baby girl. Her name is Sidney and is one year old. I decided not to look for you since I was capable enough of taking care of her myself._

_I'm afraid I am not anymore, since I am ill and won't be alive for much longer. I have no other relative to ask for this enormous favor, and you are, after all, her father. I do not intend to ruin your life this way, but I have no one else to turn to._

_I will let you two all my money, which should be more than enough for her whole education, maybe even for a flat once she's older._

_I sent a picture of her with this letter. Her hair is dark like yours._

_I will be at your house in about a week from now so you can meet her and she can get to know her new home._

_Sorry for any inconvenient I may cause you._

_Maureen Lawrence._

John looked up from the letter, and saw that Sherlock was looking at the picture. He wouldn't exactly call love what was in his eyes, but there wasn't such thing as coldness like there always was.

"May I see her?" John said.

Sherlock gave him the photograph. A baby girl with dark hair and green-brown eyes was smiling on it, and John smiled a little himself. Sidney was just like Sherlock in so many ways, but at the same time wasn't.

"What now?" asked John.

"We prepare a room for her. Buy things for her." Sherlock replied, thoughtful.

"Where could we possibly get a room for her?"

Sherlock looked at John, his eyes serious.

"No, I am not giving up my room!" he said.

"C'mon, John! Just for now, you could share your room with her."

"You say 'for now', but it will turn into a forever!"

Eventually, after a bet, John gave up his room.

One day they went shopping, and bought what they thought—according to the telly—a baby girl might need. When they went back to the flat, Mrs. Hudson saw them and asked what that was all about. Sherlock simply said "We're getting a baby."

Mrs. Hudson obviously got the idea wrong, and congratulate both Sherlock and John. He then had to explain the situation to her.

After a long discussion, John convinced Sherlock of telling Mycroft about the baby. But Sherlock, being the way he is, simply texted him:

I'm having a baby – SH

Oh, John and you have finally came out? – MH

Don't be silly. The baby is mine, and will be here in three days, just in case you wanted to meet her – SH

Who is crazy enough to have a child with you? – MH

Intoxicated people – SH

Please, don't say more. I shall come around in three days – MH

When the day finally came, Sherlock was nervous. John couldn't say he wasn't, but this was not a consequence of something he did.

The doorbell rang and Sherlock flew downstairs. When he opened the door, memories of the night he spent with Maureen came to him. He didn't delete them, he was ashamed to admit to himself, and didn't want to either.

"Hello," he said. "Please, come in."

Maureen was an average tall woman with long straight blonde hair and green eyes. She had a roundly face, small nose and pink cheeks with a few freckles, and between her short arms she had little Sidney, who was asleep. She smiled at Sherlock with a little thank you and headed upstairs, Sherlock after her.

They got there and she took a sit, baby still in her arms.

"Hello." Said John as he approached her from the kitchen. He came closer and shook her hand, then came closer to Sidney. "She's beautiful!" he whispered.

The three of them talked for a while, a little awkward at first, more fluently once they found things to talk about.

Eventually, Sidney woke up and looked at where she was. Seeing her mother sooth her fear of an unknown place. "Sidney, there's someone you should meet." Her mother said.

The baby girl took her hands to her face, then stretched her arms and looked at the man in front of her. She smiled, made a happy sound and tried to catch one of his fingers.

"She likes you!" Maureen said. "Wanna hold her?"

Sherlock nodded and took the girl in his arms. He was amazed of how perfectly her little body fit in his arms, and smiled a little. "Hello." He said to her.

"Try to say something else. Tell her who you are." Maureen indicated.

"Sidney, I'm your father." He said.

Sidney's deep eyes were fixed on Sherlock, as if studying him. He liked that very much. She was still smiling, and reached a hand to his face. He took it in his, and felt something inside him, something that he couldn't quite recognize. It was an old feeling, something he used to feel, but what was it?

"Do you wanna meet John, Sidney?" Sherlock asked.

They girl kept smiling and made more happy sounds. Sherlock sat next to his best friend, who came closer to the baby.

"Hey, Sidney." He said. "You are such a beautiful little girl!"

She laughed, then reached for John.

Maureen watch the scene with a little sadness, since she wouldn't be able to take part of such a beautiful and strange family.

The doorbell rang once again, and seeing Sherlock refused to go down, John immediately knew it was Mycroft. They both came upstairs into the flat a few moments later.

"Good afternoon." Mycroft said to Maureen. "I'm Sherlock's brother, Mycroft."

"Pleasure to meet you." Maureen said shaking his hand.

"Pleasure is mine." He then turned to his brother. "Sherlock, may I see her?"

The younger Holmes rolled his eyes and handle the baby to Mycroft, who took it very carefully.

"This reminds me of when you were a baby." He commented.

Sidney looked at Mycroft and made a face, then reached for his face and managed to grave his nose. Sherlock and John laughed as Maureen said "No, Sidney, let your uncle's nose go."

Sidney's hand let go of Mycroft's nose, she looked at him with shining eyes and laughed.

As the weeks went by, Maureen's condition got worse, until the point she had to go to a hospital and couldn't even get up of her bed. She eventually passed away, leaving Sidney to Sherlock and John.


	2. Chapter 2

__Episode One: Suicide Angels (2/8)

_14 years later_

"Dad!" Sidney shouted from the kitchen. "Will you even stop putting human parts in the fridge? It's repulsive."

"It's an experiment!" he replied from the living room.

"It always is. You should get a new excuse. Or a new fridge."

"Already tried that," said John as he entered the kitchen. "Will never happen."

"What's today's case, John?"

"Nothing yet, everything's too boring."

"It always is." Sidney smiled, then said "Tea?"

"Please." He opened the fridge and made a face. "We're out of milk. Seriously, what the hell does he do with the milk?"

"I think that's why he's so pale." Sidney whispered to John.

He laughed. "I'll go buy some milk. Want anything?"

"I'd like some chocolate."

"Okay, but don't eat it all by yourself, I like chocolate too."

"Sure!"

John left, and Sidney went to the living room, where she sat in front of her father.

"Sidney, I've been asking John to pass me my phone. Where is he?" he said.

"Went out. And it is right in front of you. Grave it yourself."

Sherlock looked up from his book at her. "No." she said.

With a sighed, Sherlock reached for his phone. Sidney smiled, then turned on the TV.

"…suicide. The police is currently at the scene, investigating." The woman on the news said.

Sidney looked at her father with a smile. "Call Lestrade!" she said.

Sidney was, in a few aspects, just like her father. He had taught her how to read people, and was just as good as he was in the subject. But, she was also like John. The both of them had raised her—at least her first four years of life they did it together—and though she knew she wasn't related to John, he was like a parent to her. She sometimes locked herself in her own world, especially when she helped on a case. But, unlikely her father, she was extremely social. At school she knew everyone, and though she didn't get along with most, she did have some friends—but the only one she would trust with her life was Will. They knew each other since the age of six, and after a few hours playing together, became good friends. As years went by, Sidney had gain and lost friends, but Will had always been there. He was the only one who regularly went to Baker Street and stayed more than a few minutes. He was the only one who Sidney told everything about any case. There were other friends, like Melanie and Sophie; but Will was the only one she trusted all her secrets.

A few moments later, both Sherlock and Sidney were taking their coats and going out. Sidney texted John where they were going, since Sherlock just wouldn't. They got a cab and left Baker Street.

"Sherlock," Lestrade said as they arrived. "Sidney. You've got ten minutes, okay?"

They both nodded and went inside an abandoned building. Sidney, who planned to be a doctor like John, was already used to see corpses, mostly because when she was a kid she used to go to the morgue and stayed with Molly when neither John nor Sherlock could take care of her. She liked Molly, and looked up to her in some aspects.

"What can you see?" asked Sherlock.

There were two corpses on the ground; one was notable tortured, and the other had a clean shot through the head. "He's young, around his twenties. There's rests of blood under his nails." She said.

"What does that tell you?"

"The other one—let's call him subject A—, around his fifties, has scratches all over his arms and face. They fought with each other, subject B won because he's younger, thus stronger. He also has bruises, he was beaten. But that wasn't the cause of death…"

"How can you tell?"

"He wasn't hit in the head or the thorax. The bruises are in his arms and legs. Look at the marks in his neck." She pointed at it. "He was strangled."

"Very good." Sherlock nodded proud. "Anything else?"

Sidney looked closer, and saw something on the back of his neck. "Is that an angel?"

Sherlock took a closer look. "Yes. Was burned." He abruptly stood up and looked at the other one.

Sidney gasped. "He was burned post-mortem—it didn't bleed and looks way too clean. And look, he has a ring with the figure of an angel."

"I'm already loving this case." Whispered Sherlock.

"Subject B was hit during the fight. Once, in the face. They've been here for a while, the bruise is already purple. One more day and it'd start to turn to yellow."

"So, this would be a kidnap, followed by murder and a suicide."

"Did I miss anything?"

Sherlock took another look at the bodies. "Subject B is wearing casual yet expensive clothes; but being eighteen he wouldn't have a well-paid job, or one at all. Comes from a good family." Sherlock rolled the boy's sleeves up. "There's a symbol here. He was burned, but it isn't fully healed yet."

"Let me guess—an angel." Sidney said, standing up.

"Indeed. And it started bleeding just before he shot himself."

"He did it to himself before he died?"

"Could be." Sherlock looked through the young man's pockets but found nothing. "He doesn't have any matches on him; nor has he something metal-made to create such a perfect shape."

"He must've threw it somewhere—maybe out the window."

"Or he could've swallow it—well, tried at least."

Out of his mouth, Sherlock took a little metal piece in the shape of an angel. It looked rusty and old.

"I'm starting to think he believed he was an angel." Sidney commented.

"Time's up." Said Lestrade as he walked in. "What do you have?"

"This was a kidnap followed bit murder and suicide." Sherlock began.

"See the bruises in the men's face and arms? They're purple reaching to yellow. They've been here for a while." Sidney continued.

"Well, the victim has been identified as Ronald Wallace. He was kidnaped about a week ago." Lestrade confirmed. "The young man is Jeffrey Lience—but we don't have any report of him being missing."

"So he came and went as he willed." Murmured Sherlock.

"That means the blood under his nails is someone else's!" said Sidney.

Suddenly, Sally Donovan came into the room. Since Sherlock had his daughter, she made sure she never called him freak in front of her. "Lestrade, we've got another one."


	3. Chapter 3

Episode One: Suicide Angels (3/8)

By the time Sidney and Sherlock got back home, John was already asleep on the couch.

"What time is it?" asked Sidney.

"Eight. I don't know how he can be so tired."

"Perhaps little Georgia kept him awake again. I rather like her, you just need to know how to get her tired."

Sidney's phone rang. It was a text from Will. "Dad, can Will come over tonight?"

"Sure."

Sherlock liked William. At first he didn't trust him, but as years went by he realized Sidney was happy around him, which made him happy, so he was always welcome at Baker Street whenever he wanted.

Sidney went to her room, the one that used to be John's. Once he moved in with Mary, she started sleeping there.

A few minutes later the doorbell rang, Sidney opened the door and greeted Will with a hug. "You have to hear this new case, it's amazing!" she said.

"Yes, hello to you too." Will said.

Will was taller than Sidney by a head. He had dark hair and brown eyes, and loved hearing about Sidney's cases. He was really into detective stories, and having a best friend whose father was a detective was something he loved even more.

"Okay, hey Will, please come in." Sidney said.

"Hello Mr. Holmes!" Will said when they reached the door to the flat.

"Hello, William. Sidney, John is up and hungry. Do you want pizza?" Sherlock said.

"Okay. Will, you wanna stay?"

"It's Saturday, why the hell not?" he smiled.

They both went to Sidney's bedroom and sat on the bed. "Okay, tell me about the case." Said Will.

"It started as a murder followed by a suicide. But I discovered it actually was a kidnap." Sidney said with a smile. "But is wasn't just one. Scotland Yard found other two, presenting the same conditions."

"It would be a serial killer who killed himself?"

"For now, yes, but there's something else. I can feel it."

Sidney was so excited her cheeks were dark pink. Will could barely see her freckles. She had a round face, like her mother, and long, slightly curly dark hair. Her skin was pale like her father's, her eyes a green-brown. She had a round nose and small lips. The first time Will saw her, he liked how her cheeks went dark pink as she talked about the things she liked.

Half an hour later, Sidney took one of the two pizzas to her bedroom and ate with Will. About an hour later Sidney fell asleep next to Will, who lied on her bed until he, too, fell asleep. This was usual between both of them. Sidney's bed was big enough anyway, and Will had stayed there countless times already.

The next morning, Sidney woke up first. She looked at her clock. It was eleven. "I overslept. Weird." She murmured and left her bed to go to the bathroom.

When she was back, Will was opening his eyes. "Good morning sleepy head!" Sidney joked near him.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Eleven. We slept a lot."

"I can't believe your father didn't play the violin."

"I'll look for something to eat—or you wanna have brunch downstairs?"

"I'm too lazy. I wanna lie here for a little while." Will said, hugging himself.

She went to the kitchen. "Dad!" she said, looking around. She found a note on the fridge. It said, that Sherlock and had gone to a case earlier that morning and met with John, and that there were pizza left overs. "No! I wanted to go. Damn it. Will! Come down here, dad's gone. Do you want pizza with coffee?"

Sidney boiled some water just as Will reached the kitchen. "Coffee and pizza? Wouldn't miss it!" he smiled.

"I just hope dad took the fingers out of the fridge." She said as she opened the fridge. "Oh, he did." She took the pizza out and left it on the table.

Will walked over to her to make the coffee. "Is there any milk?" he asked.

"This is weird. There actually is." She said, her eyebrows frowned.

"What?" asked Will, taking two mugs to the table.

"Nothing." She sat next to him.

Will turned on the TV, but there was nothing good. "Wait, you have Doctor Who DVDs, right?" he asked Sidney.

"You're right! Which doctor you want?"

"Ten. And with Donna, she's awesome."

"Which one?"

"Umm, Turn Left was a good one."

"All right, then."

Once they finished their brunch, they sat on the couch and kept watching Doctor Who for another hour, until Sherlock texted Sidney.

"Need me at a crime scene." She said. "Sorry."

"It's okay, I should go home before mom starts freaking out."

"Okay, I'll change clothes and be right back."

She ran to her room, graved her jeans, a blue shirt and gray hoodie and met Will at the door.

"I'll walk you home, then meet dad and John." She said to him.

"No, it's okay. Your father will know you walked me home and get angry anyway."

"Don't say that, he likes you. You're not like everybody else."

Will smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "Good luck catching murderers!"

Sidney took a cab to the address Sherlock texted her.

Once she got there, Sally greeted her and showed her where her father was. Sally rather liked Sidney. She wasn't like her father, she was more human-being and didn't go around pointing out people's secrets and flaws like Sherlock did. Perhaps she noticed them, but knew where to stop.

Sidney met Lestrade on her way to the abandoned house where another murder/suicide happened. "You've got five minutes there, Sherlock took advantage of you already."

She smiled at him and kept walking. She entered the house and saw Sherlock kneeled next to the body of a young woman. "Sherlock, you told her to come?" asked John when he saw Sidney.

"I'm happy to see you, too, John." She then turned to her father. "What do you have?"

"Olivia Hunt, thirty, no torture, she was just kidnapped—killed by one clean shot through the heart, and the back of her neck was burned." He looked up at Sidney.

"What about the man?"

"Logan Stevens, nineteen. Also, clean shot through the head like Jeffrey. No signs of fight, no connection with the victim. The only things that connects him with Jeffrey are the ring and the mark of the angel; he also tried to swallow the metal piece."

"I would say cult."

"I was thinking the same." Sherlock stood up. "She was just a regular woman. They kill innocent people. But why?"

"This morning, how many bodies were found?"

"Another eight. Same as Ronald, strangled post-mortem."

"We should expect some more bodies, then. Shot through the heart, no sign of fight." Sidney said. She looked at John. "What do you think?"

"Well, it does sound like a suicide cult. Maybe they have to archive some kind of… something? I don't know."

"That's a good idea. Perhaps they have to reach certain number of victims." Sidney said.

"Yes, that could be an assumption." Sherlock said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Lestrade came in, and said "Time's up. What do you have this time?"

"Kidnap followed by murder and suicide, like Jeffrey Lience—except there was no torture this time." Sherlock said.

"Are the boys some other how linked?"

"Yes. Before killing themselves they both burned themselves with a little rusty piece of metal the shape of an angel, and burned the victim in the back of the neck with the same." Sidney added.

"What do you think it is?"

"We believe it might be some kind of suicide cult." John said.

"All right, you have to go now before you cause any trouble." Lestrade said, pointing at the open door behind him.

The three of them stepped outside, Sidney said goodbye to Sally, and they took a cab back to Baker Street.

"How's Will doing?" asked John, after a long silence. "Didn't get a chance to say hi."

"Oh, he's fine, stayed with me today until dad texted me." Sidney replied. "We watched some Doctor Who. John, wanna stay for tea? Mary won't be angry, right?"

"Sure, she won't mind." John smiled.

When they got there, a man in a suit was waiting at the front door for them to come back, looking around, an umbrella hanging from one of his arms.


End file.
